Knowing
by Messino12
Summary: *UPDATE* Sometimes, you just know.
1. Author's Note

I don't write fanfic, never had, but I kept hearing the first three lines of this story over and over again in my head so I went with it. It's a long oneshot (and will stay that way), and I wrote it in about 2 hours. It takes places after the end of Season One, you find out exactly when as the story progresses. Everything that took place in Season One of Scandal is to be understood and taken as fact in reading this story. Obviously, I don't own any of the characters, Shonda Rhimes does-and aren't we thankful for that!

The perspective and insight from which this story is told is an interesting one and I really enjoyed writing it. I don't do cliches well, and I don't enjoy stating (or reading) the obvious, and if you're reading this story, you've already watched the entire season of Scandal on Hulu or more than once so you know where we're at and how everybody feels. The sentence structure and overall tone of the story is different than most stories found on this website for Scandal, so here's a few things to take note of: I am aware of the lack of commas and the abundance of long sentences but you'll just have to flow with it, it's how I write and want to frame the moment; I tried to avoid being sappy and blatantly obvious about a few things-I want you to just understand what's going on based on your own perception of the show's first season; I encourage you to read slowly-might get confusing with my style of writing if you're just trying to get to the next part-you don't want to miss a beat and every word was thought out and used for a specific reason.

Like I said, it's only a oneshot and definitely the only fic I will write. Please review, as I'm a rookie & want to know your thoughts! Thanks for reading


	2. Knowing

This had to stop.

He couldn't be here, she couldn't let this happen, everything needed to be reigned back in or something would go terribly wrong.

She didn't know where to focus her attention and the room was spinning and she was breathing erratically and he didn't skip a beat.

This had to stop. Now.

She tried to remember a time when she hadn't wished for the very thing that was suddenly overloading her senses and cursed herself when she came up short-with not a single recollection of a time she'd prayed this would never happen or a moment that wasn't bound by her secret longing of right hand here, left hand here, "Give up the ship, I surrender."

She was losing the ground she had taken, but realized there had been a staunch disconnect between her mind and her heart-she wasn't as strong as she seemed and her plan? About as solid as a sand castle in a rainstorm.

She didn't know how they'd gotten here.

For the life of her she didn't know how they'd gotten here. All the angst and rashness and forgetfulness. They were hanging on by the skin of their teeth and then she'd gone and done the worst and they'd been uncivilized and hadn't said the things they wanted and needed to and she was crying at home and he was yelling at his kids and everyone else threw in towel. "Bad week," they'd said, since she never cried and he never yelled, and everyone would remain a little distant and come Tuesday everything would be fine.

And now this. THIS! This had to stop.

And she hoped, PRAYED, she spoke for the both of them when she said she'd never expected this. That's probably why. Why she was gasping for air and trying to get free and absolutely bursting to rid herself of what was happening.

This had to stop or she'd lose everything.

Things were falling down around her and her sanity screamed for relief from the madness and she knew. She'd known the whole time and she kicked herself for letting it get this far.

He'd stood there, saying things he'd probably never regret and twisting his words into knots and knocking her down.

And she'd stood there. Stunned and angry and shocked and silently forming a plan to make it all go away.

"What are you doing here?" she'd asked.

"How _dare_ you," he'd seethed.

"Excuse me..."

"You turned me over to the dogs and left me there without so much as a real explanation as to what was going on. You let that vulture of a woman have her way without even a fight!"

He had been yelling and she'd begged him to keep quiet.

"Keep your voice down!"

"Don't you dare tell me what to do and not do. That's not your job anymore, remember? You turned in your hard pass. You haven't been back, it's been well over a year...I think I can do and say as I please."

"Stop it," she'd said. He'd gotten progressively closer and the door was still open and she had to move around him to reach it, placing her hand on the door knob, holding her hand in front of her to usher him out. He'd grabbed her by the arm, releasing her hold on the most solid thing she could find since the last 3 minutes had elapsed too quickly, as if they'd suddenly remembered they had somewhere else to be. The door had slammed behind him as she thought of a backup plan.

"Don't slam the door! Good god, can't you be quiet, please! What do you want? Why are you here? Say what you have to say because it's obviously important enough to come barging in here the way you are," she glanced at the clock on the wall behind him, "3:32 in the morning, like the rest of the world has to run on your time!" Her voice had been louder than she wanted it, and she'd willed herself to bring it back down.

His brows had furrowed as he watched her, he could tell he was close to the edge and he hadn't even begun.

"How could you do that?" He'd whispered.

All the things he'd wanted to say, all the things he'd brewed about for months were gone and he fought to keep them in the forefront of his mind as a remembrance of why he'd come here, what he had to say and all the time he'd spent sulking and preparing and thinking about how just ten minutes with her would be all he'd need before she'd know what she'd done. He could feel his pulse in his throat and his stomach was in knots and he'd felt the lack of sleep pulling at his body. How did he get here?

His tone had surprised her, which is why she'd opened her mouth suddenly and closed it just as quickly and she'd known that he knew. She'd known that he knew that she hadn't asked for this, but that she'd gone on with it because it had to stop. And that then had been as good a time as ever.

But it'd been over a year. So why now? Why now?

She'd followed his eyes as he looked down to the ground and back up at her, not saying anything and wanting her to understand and wanting her to make the first move so he wouldn't cross some boundary he was sure she'd put up. His resolve had given way and he'd heard him repeating himself.

"How could you do that?"

There had been silence between them. She'd folded her arms across her chest and shifted her weight from one leg to the other while he'd rubbed his face with his hands and rolled his head back. She didn't have to respond and she'd known he didn't want her to because she'd known that he knew the answer to the question. She'd also known that he knew that she knew.

She'd looked up and met his gaze and she had remembered how much there was at stake with him being here. There were things that needed to be said but neither could find the words and she'd uncrossed her arms and shrugged her shoulders.

He had walked towards her and she'd taken a step back, but her breath caught in her throat and she'd pleaded with him to say something. Anything other than what needed to be said because he couldn't be here and she couldn't let this happen and there were too many things that hadn't been shared between the two of them.

She didn't know how they'd gotten to this point but she did know one thing.

This had to stop.

He was kissing her and she was taking it all in and he was saying things to her she hadn't heard in months and his hands were roaming and things were moving too fast. She could hear the rapid succession of her heartbeat in her eardrums and she knew they would rupture if she didn't shut this down now. Something was digging into her back through the pillow on the couch and she stored that fact into the front recesses of her mind to use in just a moment when he came up for air and looked at her and stopped kissing her neck and said something she was bound to curse him for, but she couldn't form the words when that moment came.

She didn't know when she'd started crying, but she knew that it wasn't just a thought when his hand brushed the side of her face and wiped a tear away, his eyes telling her that he knew there was pain. He didn't know when but he thought he knew why and the lump in her throat grew as she realized what he was thinking and that he was wrong.

"We can't..." she breathed, opening her eyes as his mouth returned to her neck and his hand found her thigh and pulled it up against his side. He wasn't listening and she was getting desperate because things were starting to fall back in place in her mind and she knew things need to end posthaste because it was too risky.

This had to stop.

"You have to stop. We can't do this..." she said more forcefully, gripping his arm while his lips worked their way up the column of her neck and back across her chin, touching her lips as his hands had free reign.

She had to get things under control and more tears fell as she realized she was warring with herself internally. He was murmuring in her ear and wiping away more tears and she felt the ring on his finger rub against her cheek and she knew. She knew this couldn't happen.

"Baby..."

Nothing.

"We...you need..." She was fighting for air and trying to tell him.

"Baby...it's...baby," It was the first time she could remember not being able to form a sentence and she started to panic. Why couldn't he let her breathe? Her eyes fluttered shut as he muttered "Sweet baby" over and over and she knew he didn't understand.

"Mama?"

Her eyes shot open and his lips wrenched from below her ear and she was trying to find something to hold on to when his head whipped to his right to look over his shoulder, as she slithered from underneath his body and around the end of the couch. She hadn't expected this.

"Come here, baby, c'mon...back to bed for you. It's okay," she said as she grabbed the small hand and began to hoist her up into her arms.

"Liv..."

"I have to put her to bed, just a second, just give me a few minutes...it only takes a minute..."

"Liv..."

"Just a second, Fitz, she'll go right back down, just give us just a little-" she was almost to the hallway when he interrupted her.

"Dammit Olivia, STOP!"

He yelled and she looked at him, seeing the vein in his neck bulge and before she knew it, the tiny hand jerked from her hands and she watched the brown curls toddle over to where he stood at the side of the couch.

She stood there unable to move and urging herself to breathe. The little girl looked up at him as she stood right below him it seemed and when she reached her hands up to him, she turned her back to the sight before her, clamping her hands over her mouth to suppress the scream welling up inside her. She squeezed her eyes shut and choked on the breath she gulped down because she knew her heart was close to failing and she would be gone within minutes. But the darkness she was sure would swallow her whole never came. She opened her eyes, hands still clasped over her lips like a vice and slowly raised her face to the mirror on the wall in front of her. She could see him standing there and saw him holding the little girl in his arms and she thought she might collapse. She could tell she was studying his face by the way her sweet little hands moved across his cheeks and recognized the tilt of her head as an inquisitive one, like when she was teaching her a new word or showing her the last page of a new book or watching the tower of blocks tumble down on the living room floor.

And he was studying her too-holding her close to his chest, his hand cradling the back of her head and she held her breath as the little girl released her hands and cracked a smile. He pressed his forehead to hers and she was forced to look away, look down, close her eyes, look anywhere other than at the reflection of the truth that was standing in her living room, and she knew that he knew why she left the first time.

She could hear the little girl squirm out of his arms and listened as the tiny feet hit the floor and stumbled towards the hallway, dragging the blanket she'd failed to notice back towards her bedroom and out of their sight.

She covered her face with her hands and inhaled deeply as tears sprang to her eyes. How had this happened?

"How could you do this?"

He'd been asking that a lot lately.

He sounded defeated, overcome and debilitated as he mumbled the words over again as she turned to look at him, her shoulders slumped and her eyes tired and her body aching and she knew that he realized what she'd been trying to tell him. She met his gaze and she swore she could see the lump in his throat and that he wanted to say more but he was walking towards her and she was walking towards him and she stopped short and so did he and they were right back where they started. And she knew that he knew-and he _did_ know, which is why he wasn't saying anything.

This isn't how she'd planned it. In fact, she hadn't. Sure, she'd thought about it every day since she was born but she'd never made a concrete plan. She'd pondered 'what ifs' and even this hadn't come up.

"What's her name?"

She raised her head quickly and saw that his eyes had changed and that he was fighting the urge to touch her and she realized that for the first time since he'd shown up here, the silence had been deafening and she was thankful for the steadiness in his voice.

"Harper."

She was surprised that her voice wasn't shaking and was more surprised when he continued to move closer. The biggest surprise came when she heard herself tell him more and she knew the words were tumbling out in a rush and she knew it was because she felt that she owed him that much but that it's hard to compress the time that had passed into one sentence.

"She's twenty-two months. Born two weeks early, but just by looking at her you would never tell. She's ambitious; still sleeps in a crib as she should, but gets out every now and then, though she probably knows how to get back in too."

She watched him watch her and she wished he'd say something concrete or walk out the door or curse or scream or do something. Anything to make her hands stop sweating and ears stop listening intently for the clock to chime 4:00 a.m.

"How much did she weigh?"

It came as a shock to her that that was his next question but she could understand why.

"Six pounds, eleven ounces."

His head dropped to his chest. "Karen weighed the same." He lifted his eyes to her and she needed to be where he stood in this moment but she couldn't because this was something that crossed too many lines for him.

"She's beautiful."

Something bloomed in her chest at the sound of his words and she felt him getting closer and she knew if he wasn't there right then she would dissolve into something she couldn't be.

"She has your nose," she breathed, careful not to look at him when he was this close to her and she was this close to buckling. He took her face in his hands and begged her to raise her chin up to look at him but she couldn't because this was fragile ground they were treading and she didn't know how much longer he'd be standing here and she wanted to throw her arms into the air and scream that she was sorry for holding this in and she couldn't. But she knew that he knew all of that.

Which was probably why he was kissing her. Desperately and pressingly and with all the concern he could possibly muster because he knew she needed him to be okay with this and with her decisions and with all the things she hadn't told him and all the things she was telling him now without saying anything. And she knew that he was okay with it.

She was sobbing in his arms and he was still kissing her and she knew it wasn't pretty but she knew she would die if he let go. She was shaking and didn't know if it was from relief or fear or being in his arms again but she was shaking and his hold on her was getting tighter. He wrapped her as securely as he could in his arms and told her he was sorry. Sorry he hadn't known, sorry he wasn't there, sorry he'd forced her to do this on her own even though he hadn't known. She wanted hopelessly to tell him she was sorry too, for holding out, for lying, for leaving, for not taking care of things so that they wouldn't be standing here but she knew that he wouldn't have wanted that and she was relieved because neither did she.

She needed to get control of herself, he needed to get back, and she needed the calm to return.

This had to stop.

She slowed her breathing as he peppered kisses along her jawline to her ear and she could feel his nose rubbing against the tears on her cheeks.

"I love you," he whispered against her ear and she knew that she'd be okay. That this was the best it could've been given the circumstances and that she'd always have his heart. _They'd_ always have his heart and that if she thought he couldn't love her more than he already did, she was wrong.

"I love you," he said again and she started to pull away but he wouldn't let her.

She didn't know how long they'd been standing there but she knew she'd missed the chiming of the clock and she hoped the baby was asleep as he took her hand and pulled her down the hallway, stopping in the doorway of the first room, realizing it was what he was looking for.

She could see from the doorway that the little girl was indeed asleep but lying on top of the blankets in her crib, uncovered and surely chilled, like she always was when she woke at this time to check on her. She walked over to the crib and picked up the tiny body and cradled her in her arms as she reached out with her left hand to pick up the blankets and move them to the other end of the crib but her hand met another and she looked up swiftly to see that he had gathered the blankets she sought in his arms and draped them over the sleeping figure that she held.

Her breath hitched in her throat as the sharpness in her lungs threatened to expose her emotions and she backed away slightly not wanting to acknowledge the fact that this is what she'd wanted but never thought of, what she needed in her life but had been impervious to the thought of allowing something like this to happen.

She caught his eyes and saw a mixture of grief and joy resting there and she trusted that he would tell her when it was too much. He stroked her face with his hand and kissed her again and she was standing there holding a baby she loved more than words and kissing a man she thought she would have to live without and she knew.

She knew that he wanted her and them more than she did and she knew he could do it and that she didn't have to doubt. That he'd raised two kids and knew what it took and she knew that he knew that she could do it. He was whispering "I love you" again and she broke away because the baby was stirring and she pulled her closer to her chest and watched as he moved his hand underneath her arm, taking the little girl into his arms. She watched as the sleepy baby settled her head on his shoulder and into the crook of his neck. She held her breath, as if doing so would make this moment last longer than it did, as he rubbed the tiny back with his hand and whispered into her ear-things about flying kites and eating ice cream and singing and dancing and loving her always and always and to the moon and back and she knew.

She knew that the sun would rise in an hour or so and he might still be here, though they might not be saying anything. She knew that it was longing that was driving the tears from his eyes now and she watched one roll down his cheek as he kept whispering things to her baby as he laid her down in the crib and ran his hand through her bouncing, ringlet curls. She knew as she watched his hand linger in the crib that he was trying to memorize her features, and she knew that he'd be a man of his word; that the words he spoke to the little girl as she slept were promises he was making from his heart to hers and she knew what he was telling her. That this wasn't it. That she'd be wrong to finalize this season of their lives and she brought her hands to her face because she knew he was trusting her. Begging her to not remove herself from his reach and telling her it was just a little while longer.

He took her in his arms and held her close and she knew he was telling the truth. That the truth and what she wanted to hear were the same and that he meant what he was saying. That for the first time since she'd met him, the truth and what she wanted to hear were the same and she knew that she'd known that all along.


	3. Another Author's Note

Hi guys,

Wow, thanks for all the reviews. I really am shocked and so thankful you all enjoyed this story. It wasn't too confusing I guess? I'm deducting that since you seemed to really know what was going on and connect with the story! That is great.

Like I said before, as a rookie, I really do appreciate your comments and feedback & would love more! As I said in the first author's note, Knowing is a oneshot & (unfortunately for some of you) will stay that way. I really only saw this story the way it is now & I will tell you honestly that I have no intention of adding to it. I believe it will take away from the solidity of the story and I just want those moments to be seen they way the are written, without any expectation of what could happen next.

As you might have noticed in this story, dialogue is not really my thing (all though I do enjoy writing that part); when I watch the show, I envision what the characters are thinking and attempt to fill in the blanks. I don't want to add too much to the story so that it becomes unrecognizable from the Scandal we all know and love.

There are a few more ideas floating around in my head-mostly based off of what I, as a writer, call filling in the blanks-we know parts of the history of characters and we see their reactions to certain experiences or even phrasing, but my thought & heart go towards, "How did they get there?" "In my mind, I think it went something like this..." and then a story is born & I've given my mind some relief from trying to mull over how they got that way!

I hope some of you know what I'm referring to. Do any of you have any questions about that during the show? I would consider possibly writing another oneshot or two if an idea came to me that stuck-I'm not going to write just because I want the characters to end up being in love and being happy. We don't know that that will actually happen (Since Shonda Rhimes is a genius).

If any of you want to PM message me with what you were thinking outside of this story in regards to 'filling in the blanks' that would be great or just more in depth of what you were thinking when you were reading Knowing.

Again, I thoroughly appreciate all of your reviews as it was a great encouragement to me as a first-timer. Thanks for being so accepting! I read every single one and was floored by them all. Thank you again


	4. A New Idea

I have a bit of an idea. And, I should apologize to you for possibly tricking you into thinking I added more to this story-that was mean and I didn't even realize it was happening until it had already happened. My intention for both Knowing & Occurrence was for them to be one-shots and THEY WILL STAY THAT WAY. But then again, I also said I never write fanfic, and that Knowing would be my only story, and look how that turned out. Okay, moving on.

With both of my previous stories I was stuck with a word or a phrase or a gesture that happened in Season 1 that propelled me to write. If you've read either of my stories (THANK YOU by the way!), you know that the "This had to stop." and the hand-to-stomach motion were the elements of each story (respectively) that created the rest. I am wanting to do so again but I thought it would be fun to take my cues from you!

Here's how it works: you tell me what you want a character to say or hear or think and I'll do the rest. Give me just one line, though-not a novel-a quote or a thought process that someone is having. Maybe it's something you've been dying for Olivia or President Grant (so professional, right?) to say; maybe it's a thought that either one has?

Here are some examples:

"You did what?"

"Say it!"

"Don't lie to me."

"I meant what I said."

_She told him it wouldn't be different, that everything would be the same, but in the morning, he realized how sadly mistaken she'd been._

_He told her the truth, and then she threw it back in his face._

_This was it._

_Because that's what she does._

I don't know if anyone else thinks like that but I know I do! Does that sound remotely fun at all? You give me one sentence (that's your limit!) and then I'll do my best to give you my take on it in the context in which I hear it. This is actually something that English majors do in a lot of classes in school and it is one of my favorite things to do! What does everyone think?

Please, PLEASE, one thousand times PLEASE either PM me (if you want everyone else to be surprised by your idea or line or quote) or review on this story again (sorry, I know that's annoying) and give me a feel for what you're thinking; is this a good idea, or bad idea? We've got a great group of creative, genius, writers out there-I think it might be fun if it works the way I'm thinking! Of course, if I did choose your line or quote or idea, you get credit for that! I'm not in the business of taking credit for someone else's idea. :)

Thanks everyone! Looking forward to hearing your responses.


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